I decided to take a shot at a humor story, even though I honestly don't think I'm very good at them. Oh well, no harm in trying, right? Lets just think of this as an experiment shall we?

Universe: Generation 1

*All credit for Transformers: Generation 1 goes to Hasbro/Hastak. Credit for Silly String goes to the respective owner. Plot and story line is mine, so please refrain from posting this story elsewhere without my given permission. Any rude reviews and comments will duly be deleted, so please refrain from doing as such Thank you.*

Enjoy!

What in the name of Cybertron…?

Prowl shuttered his optics a few times as he tried to make sense of the scene before him without crashing his processor. There was a foamy…substance of sorts strewn all over the silo and, miraculously, some had even latched itself to the ceiling.

The Tactician twitched his black and white door panels in an agitated motion and he shook his head to disperse the charge he felt building there. He absolutely could not afford to crash, especially not with the President coming in three hours. He bent down to a pile near his foot and gave it a poke with a hesitant finger, watching as it squished and dispersed under the miniscule weight. The stuff would probably blow away if he even vented on it.

Deciding to test this (despite knowing that this would do next to nothing in discovering what this substance was), he lowered himself down so his chin nearly touched the ground, and gave the pink foam an experimental gust of air. It moved when buffeted by the breeze, but surprisingly stayed in place. With a confused hum, he straightened himself and stood, gazing around at the room and the multiple trails of foam while cupping his chin in a hand.

If there was one thing that needed to be found, it was who did this. There was absolutely no way Prowl was going to clean up after someone else's mess, but with the President due for a visit it had to be cleaned regardless.

His brow drew down and he frowned in displeasure. He reached up to call Optimus Prime via his communication link but stopped mid-motion when his audio receivers caught the sound of a bot - actually, make that two - laughing. His hand dropped to his side and his frown deepened. Suddenly, he knew exactly who the perpetrators were.

With barely contained irritation, he swept out the door and into the hallway where his suspicions were confirmed: basically splayed on the floor in uncontrollable laughter were Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, the Doom Twins as they had so appropriately been dubbed. Prowl placed his hands on his hips and splayed his door panels outwards in a display of intimidation. He made a noise with his vocalizer and the twins stopped dead, turning their heads with comical slowness to face Prowl with identical bug-eyed looks of horror.

"Would either of you care to explain why there are trails of foam all over the Rec-room?" The Tactician interrogated the two on the floor, dropping the pitch of his voice for added effect. Had the twins been human, their faces would have just gone five shades paler.

"Oh…that? Well, Spike was just raving about how much fun Silly String was, so we decided we might want to, uh, play with it. You know, to test it out," Sideswipe responded meekly. Sunstreaker pinned his brother with a glare and scoffed, obviously unhappy the other had admitted to the crime so easily.

"I suppose this means brig time, right?" The yellow twin stated more than asked, and moved to stand. Prowl was silent a moment before an uncharacteristic grin split his face as a brilliant idea came to mind.

"No," he finally said, indulging in the looks of confusion he received before offering an explanation. His grin grew wider and he pointed to the Rec-room. "You two now have the pleasure of making that room absolutely spotless before the President arrives, and that includes the energon dispensers."

Sideswipe might as well have unhinged his jaw and let it drop to the ground. Sunstreaker, whom had a little more pride, huffed and dragged his brother to the storage closet to retrieve the necessary materials.

Prowl saw them off and sauntered down the halls to his office, grin still firmly implanted on his face and confident the Rec-room was about to be the cleanest it had been in years. And better yet, he didn't have to do it himself.

END

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